Rabbit Hole
by in-prose
Summary: What made Sarah chose that moment? What led her to leave Vic at that exact time so she ended up on that exact train and that exact platform?


Disclaimer: These aren't my characters. I just play with them and put them back. No copyright infringement intended.

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Rabbit Hole

Someone called the cops. Again. The fights are getting worse. Louder. More violent. You're not even sure what caused it this time. Well, not specifically. The hustle fell through. It busted up spectacularly. No chance of saving it. Completely sideways. You were lucky to get away without the police getting involved in that. Now, the money's almost gone. You're going to have to leave soon. The way you left Myrtle Beach. The city is burned up, used up. And Vic is raging about it.

He's high. He's angry. And you're the only one around. So, he comes after you. You were at the table. He didn't like what you said, so he slapped you. His ring split you lip. You tasted blood almost at once.

He tried to apologize. He's always so sorry. 'I don't know why I did that. I won't happen again. I'll try to control myself.'

He came towards you for a hug or some form of comfort. You always end up coddling him after he hits you. You weren't in the mood tonight. You shoved him away.

"Don't," you said.

Instead of backing away, he lunged forward, grabbed you by the arm, and forced you out of the chair. It's going to bruise. Fat, black and blue marks that will be perfectly shaped to Vic's fingers. You fight back. You are not a victim. Your fists land just as hard as his. But then he gets her from behind. Out of reach. And he's going to break you arm. He twists it behind you back. He's ripping your arm away from your shoulder. You'll be in two pieces.

There are a stacks of books under the window. Left behind by some previous squatter. You've been meaning to look more closely at the piles. Pick one or two to read. You don't know why you think of this now. An escape perhaps. Just to be somewhere else. You see yourself curled up on the sofa with a book and a cup of tea. You're reading to Kira. No pain. No violence. No running.

Vic wrenches your arm just a little hard. You scream.

That's when the police come. There's banging on the door. A voice yells, "Open the door. Police!"

Vic releases you. You fall forward, landing practically on top of the books. The stacks topple over. He's calmed down almost at once. His energy is directed towards a different place.

"Are you fucking finished?" you snap at him even though you're nauseous from the pain.

He stands over you. There's still blood in you mouth and you pull your arm against your chest, keeping your shoulder as still as possible. Even that small motion makes the room spin and sends waves of pain across your upper body.

The cops are still banging on the door. And you feel like slipping out the window. Gone for good.

"Get the bloody door," you yell.

"I'm going!" he yells back.

"I'm so tired of your shit. Make them go away."

You move towards the bathroom. You have to stop the bleeding or the cops won't go away. You rise out your month. The water comes out pink. You look at yourself in the mirror. Your lower lip is already swollen. You lean closer to the mirror and rub your thump across the spot. You wince. Your mouth still has a metallic taste, but it's not actively bleeding.

The shoulder is going to be worse. Slowly, very slowly, you lower it from its position. You have to keep her teeth tightly clenched to keep from crying out. You move it up again. Up and down until you can move it in a circle. Not dislocated.

You wipe the streaky makeup from around your eyes. It a good thing it's supposed to look kind of a mess. You tears didn't make much of a difference. You take a step back and look at the full effect. Thick, dark hair with the blonde highlights. Dark makeup. Bustled lip. A plain black t-shirt cut so it hangs off your shoulder. That's all you can see in the small mirror above the sink.

You sigh. You don't think about your situation. You don't think about how you got to this point. You don't think about leaving Kira. You don't think of the dozes of wrong choices that you made that led you down the rabbit hole. You just plaster a toothy smile on your face and go to try to convince the cops to leave.

You know right away you're in could be in trouble. You'll have to be careful. The cops can't know who you are. You'd tuned out the commotion while you were in the bathroom. One of the officers is the same as last time. That was only two weeks ago. Of course he remembers. He eyes you up and down as you move towards the scene. The officer you don't recognize is putting Vic into handcuffs.

Vic's yelling again. He's being belligerent. "Sarah, tell them! Tell them!"

"Let him go. It was an accident," you say, your voice sickly sweet.

"Ma'am, I'm Officer Diaz. This is the second time I've been here in a month. I'm beginning to see a pattern. We can't release him until I know you're safe." He wants to save you somehow. Men always want to save you like you're a sad puppy. A lost kitten. An orphan.

"Yeah, we were fighting, but it was all words. We're passionate. Lover and fighters, yeah?" you say. You don't know where this is coming from. Your voice two octaves higher than usual. You and Vic are toxic. There's a lot of passion, but there's a lot of anger and codependency too.

"Ma'am, I must say I don't quite believe you. I just want to make sure you're safe," says the officer.

"C'mon, let 'em go," you croon. You pull on Vic's arm.

Office Diaz sighs. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. No charges. I'm safe. Right, baby?"

"That's right. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Vic answers.

It's a while before Vic is actually released. A lot of convincing before they actually get ready to leave. It's nearly three o'clock in the morning. You want to sleep. You're tired and you hurt. You can't sleep because you lied. You lied through your teeth. You don't feel safe. You have never felt safe with Vic the dick.

You stand off to the side, out of the way. You don't want the police to talk to you. You're not feeling up to keeping a story going. You can't remember the name you gave them last time. You let Vic deal with it. It's his fault anyway. It's always his fault and you always bail him out. You don't know why. How did you end up here?

No, you already told yourself not to think about that. But you can't help. It's like when someone says 'don't think about a crocodile' and suddenly all you can think about are crocodiles.

Crocodiles. You took Kira to the zoo once. There had been crocodiles in the reptile house. Kira had been scared of them. She's such a brave kid, but the crocodiles got to her. She was only four and only about the size of the creature's snout. She never cried or whined like other kids. She just tugged on your sleeve.

"I wanna go see somethin' else," she had said. Her lip sticks out like yours does when she's upset.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

"They could eat me," she had whispered.

You had tried not to laugh. It was too cute. You picked her up and knock on the glass so she knew it was there. "Don't worry, little monkey. They don't eat monkeys. They eat fish." You had no idea if that was true, but it made Kira feel better.

Vic snaps his fingers in your face and you jump.

"Earth to Sarah!" he says.

"What?" you say back.

"They're gone."

"Finally."

You take a few steps towards the window so you can look down into the street. The cop car is still there with the lights flashing. Officer Diaz gets into passenger's seat.

"I don't want any back talk. You started this."

You clench your jaw. How in the world could he think this was her fault?

"We have to get out of here," he says.

"No, shit. We're lucky they didn't ask any questions. We're not even supposed to be in this apartment."

"I don't want to here anything else out of you. Just shut the fuck up."

He acts like he's going to hit you again. He stops himself and holds out a finger only half an inch away from you face. If your shoulder didn't hurt so badly, you would've at least pushed his hand away. Instead, you just stare him down. It's all you can do. You both stand there for close to a minute. Neither moves except to breathe. He breaks first. He shoves you away by pulling on your hurt shoulder. The pain ripples, but you can handle it.

"I'm going to sleep," he says.

'And I'm leaving,' you think. It's not the first time, but you're really going to do it this time. You've said it a million times before. You've said it to him. You've thought it to yourself. But you're really going to do it.

He seems to read your mind. He casually moves into the kitchen area and with a quick motion grabs your leather jacket from the back of a chair. You know what he's after. You rush towards him, but he's already riffling through the pockets. You drag his arm away, but the letters are crumpled in his fist. The letters from Kira. The pictures of Kira. The only thing you have of your daughter.

"Just give them back."

"A little insurance policy. You won't leave without them. C'mon, Sarah, I need you. You have to stay. Promise you'll stay."

You can't promise him anything. But you also won't leave without the letters. He waves them in front of your face.

"Vic, I'm so serious."

"Dear Mummy," he mocks. "Please stay away. I'm better off without you." He laughs.

You just stare at him. You know that's not true. You didn't leave for Kira's good. You might have been able to justify that if you thought she was better off without you. You left for your own selfish reasons. You weren't a great mum, but you were good enough. She would always be better with her mum there. You had made a promise before Kira was even born that she wouldn't grow up with you did. You broke that promise. You were stupid and thoughtlessand you left without saying goodbye because it would hurt too much.

The anger starts to rise in your chest again. Anger at yourself. Anger at Vic. But you use it. You don't let it explore.

You shrug like you don't care. "Fine, I'll leave without the letters. I've read them already. If I can disappear from my kid's life for almost a year, what makes you think I won't disappear from yours, eh?"

"Because you love me," he says. It's more like a whine, like a dog.

You have him. He starts to move closer. He's after something now. You're daring him to ask for it.

"Do I?" you ask him.

"Say it, Sarah. Say it."

"It's not true." He thinks you're messing with him. He likes it when you're a bitch.

He's close now. You close the gap and kiss him. Kiss him hard to keep from saying the words. You start pulling at each other's clothes. You hear the papers hit the floor. Without separating, you both fumble towards the bedroom and collapse onto the mattress.

It hurts. He's too rough. He always is, but with your shoulder it's even worse than usual. You bite his lip as payback. He likes it though. The mattress starts smacking again the wall with every thrust and it makes your stomach turn over. Bang. Bang. Bang. He comes and it's over.

He rolls off you. He lies flat on his back taking up most of the space. He grabs a pack of cigarettes and lights one. He offers you one, but you shake your head. A year and a half together and he still doesn't realize you've never smoked. You watch the smoke rising towards the ceiling and the smoke detector that hangs open without a battery.

Not even you deserve this. For all you've done, for all your sins, you've been punished enough. Why do you do this to yourself? You make choices that you know will send down the hole. You don't even try to stop yourself. You don't even look for an exit. For what? For the thrill? For the freedom? This doesn't feel like freedom.

You can't remember what was so hard about being with Kira. You can't remember why you started hanging out with the old crowd again. You knew what Mrs. S thought about it. You knew that's why she let you and Kira move back in. You claimed it was to get Kira into a better school, but Mrs. S knew the truth. She did it for Kira, not for you. You started staying out on the weekends, especially after you met Vic. And then you just didn't come back. You got into Vic's car and left for the States. You didn't look back and you can't say why you left. It's time to fix it. Do right by your daughter. Do right by the people who deserve your attention.

You wait. He puts it cigarette out. He's asleep soon. You wait a little longer. Then, you start to move. You take a shower to wash his smell off of your body. You dress and stuff the rest of your clothes into a backpack.

You go for the letters next. Gingerly, you gather them from the floor where he dropped them. You spread them out on the table to make sure they're all there. You trace the colorful crayon words. You have them memorized. You pull your leather jacket on and slip the letters and picture back into the inside pocket where they belong.

You've already slung the backpack over your good shoulder when you stop. You need your own insurance policy. You need start up money. The coke. Vic just got more supplies yesterday. There's a huge stash in the closet. In the bedroom.

You unzip your bag and creep back into the room. Vic is still laying exactly where you left him. He's even snoring a little. This is how you like him best.

You easy open the closet door and dig behind some shoes for the duffle. The fat packages are just waiting for you. Just grab a couple, get Felix to sell it, and live easy for a little while with Kira and away from this madness.

You've only had time to slip one package into your backpack when you hear a noise behind you.

"Sarah?" He's awake. "Sarah? What the _fuck_ are you doing?"

He focuses enough to see what you're doing. There's no hiding it. You heart starts hammering. He could kill you this time. For leaving. For stealing from him.

"Leaving," you say a hundred times more bravely than you feel.

"Like hell you are! Like fucking hell!"

He's raging again. He's coming for you. You're still kneeling on the floor in front of the closet. You scramble for the only thing you can reach. The heavy glass ashtray is on the floor. You grab it and swing just as he bends towards you. You throw all you weight into it even with your shoulder screaming as loudly as he is. The ashtray connects. It connects right in his face.

He howls, but you don't wait. This time you run straight for the door. It slams behind you. Your tearing down the stairs and you slow just long enough to cover the coke and close your bag. And you're gone.

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Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


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